


Hot Air

by oceaxe



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, Valentine's Day, stupid cupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9710360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: Eames is full of hot air. Arthur kind of enjoys it. Banter and smut ensue (and a little fluff if you squint).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dasyatidae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasyatidae/gifts).



> For the utterly delightful Dasyatidae, whose prompt 'sushi' inspired this bit of filthy silliness- or is it silly filthiness? I hope you like it, my dear! I'm sorry there's not more raw fish in it but I ended up fixating on this great little place I used to frequent in Durango, where I did thoroughly enjoy their amenities. 
> 
> Thanks to Teacuphuman and Deinvati for the beta and input!

“Let’s go for sushi,” Eames said, and Arthur gaped at him.

“We’re in Durango, Colorado. The ocean is, like, a thousand miles away.”

“Arthur, this is the modern age! Airplanes deliver seafood fresh from Neptune’s clutches, not even flash-frozen!” Eames pouted at him, and that pout was lethal. “Come on, darling, don’t be so judgmental.” 

They ended up at a place called Sushitarian and Arthur had to concede that it was far better than he’d been expecting. He would cop to having ludicrously high standards for sushi, higher than necessary perhaps. This place was more than passable, but it wasn’t until Eames left the bathroom with a funny smile on this face that Arthur intuited it might not be the quality of the sushi that had brought them to the restaurant. 

“What is _up_?” Arthur asked, deliberately enunciating each word. 

Eames just smiled more broadly, put his finger alongside his nose, nodded and _winked_. “That would be telling,” he said cryptically. 

“Telling… about what?” 

“Let’s just say there’s an extra amenity in the loo that might give you a moment’s entertainment. I especially enjoyed the warm air stream.”

Arthur felt his face flush as his brain put it all together. They must have one of those Japanese bidet seats in the restroom and Eames had been - the image of Eames enjoying the amenities of the bidet was a little too vivid. 

He abruptly stood up, determined to get on equal footing. “I guess I’ll have to give it a try,” he said, thinking about giving Eames a wink but deciding at the last second to offer a smirk instead. Winking was best left to the professionals. 

He could feel Eames’ eyes on him all the way to the restroom and wondered if his playfulness was really such a rare thing as to be a spectacle. The bidet seat (Toto Washlet, the label informed him) was trim, sleek and warm on his cheeks as he lowered himself down. Normally he would ignore such a useless and frankly embarrassing object, but he felt obligated to give each function a try, lest Eames test his knowledge once he returned to the table. Arthur voided his bladder then looked at the remote, selecting the oscillating feature first. 

It made him nearly leap off the seat, and he emitted a tiny yelp which was hopefully muffled by the door. In the interests of completeness, he adjusted the water volume to high and tried to relax as his dick was thoroughly hosed down. The water was the perfect temperature and it actually felt wonderful, and thankfully nonsexual. He really didn’t need to be getting aroused in a public bathroom of all places, nor so close to Eames (either spatially or temporally). Arthur knew that he’d been taking this little game with Eames too seriously lately, when it was highly probable that Eames was just taking the piss with him, not flirting in earnest.

Arthur examined the controls and on a whim changed to pulsating mode, which felt terrible on his cock, especially with the quantity of water in each jetting spray. In his dismay, his thumb slipped and must have toggled the switch to the back because suddenly his ass was pelted with powerful pulses of warm water. It felt amazing. His cock twitched and started to fill at the teasing pressure, so he immediately fumbled with the remote to turn it off, managing to end the spray through sheer luck. 

The last thing to try was the blow dry option, which he dutifully selected, expecting it to feel bizarre. And it did, but it was also strangely comforting and relaxing. His spine melted as he gave into the sensation, letting himself close his eyes. It was at that moment that he remembered this had been Eames’ favorite part, and at the thought his cock began to harden again. The soft susurration of air was like someone hovering over his ass, warming him with their breath as they made ready to - 

He cut off that train of thought. His dick was entirely hard. It was so hard that he might need to do something about it. Here, in a public restroom, with Eames fifteen feet away. Knowing perfectly well what sensations he had been experiencing-- and where. 

Fuck it. Arthur got a grip on himself and didn’t let himself think too hard about the images that accompanied the frantic jerking of his hand.

\---

Walking back to the table was a challenge, as he didn’t know where to look. Eames’ eyes were entirely too bright and mocking as he sat back down. 

“So?” Eames prompted.

“So what,” Arthur equivocated. They were all done eating, he had no idea why they were still sitting at the table. Lunch was over; they were the only patrons left in the joint.

Eames’ mouth twisted into an amused shape. “The amenities,” he said with a ‘go on’ gesture. 

“Yeah, well. It was interesting.” He maintained a straight face, unwilling to give Eames an inch on this. He would only end up confirming Eames’ obvious suspicion.

“You were in there for a while,” Eames said mildly, but with a telling twinkle in his eye, a chuckle threatening to erupt.

“I - hey look, I’m not the one who said they liked hot air blown up their ass!” Arthur huffed and crossed his arms. 

“Did I say that?” Eames raised an eyebrow coolly, but it was clear that he was still on the verge of laughing. 

“It figures that would be your favorite, since you’re so talented at it yourself,” Arthur said with a frown, listening to the innuendo form as the words left his mouth. He flushed fiercely and wished Eames didn’t affect him this way.

Eames beamed at him. 

“I think we should get back to the office,” Arthur said tonelessly. 

“By all means,” Eames murmured as he rose and left some bills on the table. As they passed the counter, Eames snagged something out of a bowl and pressed it into Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur stopped in the doorway to look into his hand. It was a small heart-shaped chalky candy and it said “Kiss Me”.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Eames chirped and leaned in. Arthur scowled at him and tried to brush past, ignoring his hammering pulse.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that not what you wanted for Valentine’s Day? I hadn’t realized you were so sentimental,” Eames said as he pushed Arthur out the door and onto the street, taking his arm and ushering him towards the car. “Would you prefer a different present? Perhaps you’d like it if I blew hot air up your ass, Arthur?”

Arthur stopped walking and stood stock-still, eyes fluttering shut. Fucking Eames.

Eames leaned in closer, wrapping his arm around Arthur’s waist and pulling him in. “I think you _would_ like it. I think you like it when I talk bollocks, and I think you like it when I get under your skin, and I think you like to think about the things I might do with my mouth if we were alone. You were in that bathroom for a very long time, darling.”

Arthur felt a shudder wrack his entire body, and Eames clearly felt it as well; he groaned and exhaled hot breath all down the collar of Arthur’s shirt. 

“It just figures that you would do this today of all days, Eames,” Arthur said weakly, heart racing. All at once, he’d had enough of it. The teasing, the innuendo, the torment of not knowing which end was up. If Eames was joking this time, Arthur would kill him. 

“Come on, then.” Swallowing convulsively, he grabbed Eames’ hand and dragged him to the car, practically pushing him inside. Eames went fluidly, easily, his face bright with pleased but disbelieving anticipation. 

“Darling, had I only known a simple bidet would prove to be the key to your heart,” Eames began but Arthur shut him up with a vicious squeeze of his hand on Eames’ thigh.

“Enough babbling. I have better uses for your hot air,” Arthur ground out, throwing the car in reverse, jamming it back into drive and hightailing it to their hotel. He’d had enough of playing the fool for Eames - if this was going to go down, it would go down his way.

Eames laughed delightedly. “Arthur, if you believe for one second that I’m going to be able to contain my enthusiasm in the face of my enormous good luck, you’re sadly mistak- oof,” he concluded abruptly as Arthur slapped his hand over Eames’ mouth, the other hand on the steering wheel and executing an outrageously dangerous maneuver into an alleyway that led to a shortcut. 

“You need to save your breath,” Arthur smirked sideways at him, then shivered as Eames exhaled onto his fingers, chasing the warm air with his tongue, trailing along the seam of Arthur’s fingers. He could feel Eames’ lips curve into a smile and realized his dick was hard again. He tried to take his hand away but Eames held onto his wrist, continuing to tongue his fingers with conviction.

Arthur squirmed in the driver’s seat as his cock reached maximum erection within the space of two seconds. He nearly grazed another car as Eames went to work on the juncture of his middle and index fingers, laving it obscenely with his eyes closed in bliss. Eames hummed slightly as he performed this indecency, as though even with his mouth occupied he still couldn’t manage to be completely silent. 

The car careened around a corner and pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. “Eames,” Arthur growled, “I need my hand back.” Eames didn’t move. “The keys,” he elaborated, wiggling his fingers. Eames’ gaze was drugged when he opened his eyes, and he released Arthur’s hand with a long shaky sigh. Arthur dragged his eyes away from Eames’ and switched off the engine, then swung his legs out of the car and tossed the keys to the valet who was waiting under the porte-cochère. Eames slid fluidly out the passenger side and walked alongside Arthur to the broad front doors, pacing him to the elevator and shoving him inside once the doors opened. 

“Your room or mine?” Arthur gasped as Eames crowded him against the ornately-carved wooden wall of the elevator. Eames’ nose was buried in the crook of Arthur’s neck, his hands sliding up Arthur’s sides, trying to dislodge his shirt and reach up underneath. He hummed as he licked the shell of Arthur’s ear.

“Yours or mine,” Arthur demanded again. Eames was on the fourth floor and Arthur the seventh and they hadn’t yet selected a floor. The doors were about to open on them and who knew could be on the other side by now. He certainly didn’t need anyone from the team witnessing this. In lieu of a verbal answer, Eames left hand crawled up his chest and poked him in the sternum, which Arthur took to mean his own room. He lunged forward to press “7” and then looked at Eames, who was smirking at him, lips pursed tight. 

Arthur finally got it. He smirked in return and said, “Good boy. You’ll speak when I tell you to.” 

Eames snorted but got right back up in Arthur’s space, palming his dick through his trousers and sucking on his neck, which Arthur allowed until the ding signaled their arrival at the seventh floor. 

The journey down the hall was a blur of groping hands and stumbling feet: they’d put this off too long and neither could maintain a veneer of sang froid about it. Eames backed Arthur up against the door as soon they were inside the room and Arthur nearly melted into it until he remembered that he was running this show. Or at least, he was trying to, but Eames was coming on like a fucking freight train, tongue down his throat and hands _everywhere _.__

__Arthur flipped them around and took control of the kiss, which caused Eames to utter a deep groan as his body pressed hard up against Arthur’s. He let Arthur divest him of his jacket and shirt, leaning up against the wall and breathing hard but not saying anything, not trying to wrest back the upper hand. Arthur’s blood surged, his cock throbbed and he sank down to his knees, getting his hands on Eames’ belt and tearing it open. He could see the outline of Eames’ erection through his hideous pleated trousers, tenting the fabric obscenely. He rubbed his face against it, drawing a grunt from Eames above him._ _

__“You can talk,” Arthur said. “I want to hear you beg.”_ _

__His hands dealt with the fly of Eames’ pants then pushed them down around his knees along with his underwear. A thick, uncut cock bounced up at him and he took it by the base, angling the head towards his mouth but not putting it in, not yet. He breathed over it, just barely licking the slit where it was smeared with precome._ _

__Eames moaned at that, which had Arthur smirking in a self-satisfied way until Eames grabbed him under the armpits to raise him up and then hustled him over to the bed before he could think to push back._ _

__“Look,” Eames said in a rough voice, “you invited me here on the premise that I was going to get my mouth on your ass and that’s what I’m going to do.”_ _

__“That’s not begging,” Arthur gasped as Eames dragged his trousers down by main force. Eames smirked, those ridiculous lips curving with sinister innuendo._ _

__“Please, Arthur,” he purred, sarcasm sharpening the sound to a taunt. “Please, oh _please_ ,” he continued as he pulled Arthur’s boxer-briefs over his cock and leaned in close, breathing hotly over it. Arthur jerked upwards, body arching into the sensation automatically, but Eames pushed him down with a tsking sound._ _

__“Now now, don’t give in so easily, pet,” he said. “I thought you wanted me to beg.”_ _

__“Fuck you,” Arthur said as Eames pushed him over on his stomach. He momentarily considered putting up a fight just to show Eames who was boss, but his warm, strong hands felt so good on Arthur’s ass, squeezing him with such sensual promise, that he couldn’t quite manage to commit to it._ _

__In the space of a breath he found himself on his stomach, shirt pushed up to his armpits, pants around his ankles, with Eames straddling him and pressing his erection along the crack of his ass._ _

__“Oh Arthur,” Eames sighed, his voice low and ragged. “Oh, your arse is the loveliest…” he trailed off as he slid down, settling between Arthur’s spread legs, using one hand to palm an asscheek while the other shoved his pants off one leg, freeing Arthur up to spread wider. Then Arthur felt hot air between his cheeks and he tensed in anticipation of Eames’ next move._ _

__“Darling,” he murmured, “you _must_ relax. Oh, I’m sorry,” and god, his fucking voice was so fucking smug, Arthur wanted to slap him silly and kiss his damn mouth shut, “I’m supposed to be the supplicant here. Please, please relax, just let go, love, yes?” He gripped Arthur’s asscheeks tighter, pushing and squeezing the flesh. “I’m going to take such good care of you,” he mumbled and slid his tongue up into the crevice, just barely leaving the tiniest wet trail along the seam. Then he pulled away, grabbed both cheeks to spread them brutally open and lowered his head again, breathing a filthy stream of warmth over Arthur’s hole. _ _

__He flashed back on the bidet, the hot wash of air on his ass, and understood in a blinding moment of clarity that Eames had actually planned this entire thing from start to finish. It was absurd and dirty and shockingly thoughtful in a very weird way and Arthur closed his eyes to revel in the feelings warming him, body and soul._ _

__“You like this, hm?” Eames asked, and Arthur heard the tiny sliver of vulnerability in his voice; it was a real question, not rhetorical._ _

__“I love it, Eames,” he sighed, and the purring sound Eames made at that was worth the price of the admission._ _

__“I knew it,” Eames said and then his tongue circled Arthur’s hole, causing Arthur to writhe and shout. He got a firm grip on Arthur’s hips and thrust his tongue in, flicking it ruthlessly, then turned it into a filthy french kiss that sent sparks all along Arthur’s spine from scalp to toes. Arthur knew he was making noises he would later be mortified to recall, but he didn’t care. Of _course_ Eames was good at this. Of _course_ this is where their erotic journey would start, and Christ, it would probably end here too, or at least this round would because Eames’ tongue was doing things no mortal tongue should be able to do._ _

__“Brace yourself, love,” Eames growled and then there was a slick finger at his entrance, working its way in with gentle determination and skill. “Fuck yes,” Arthur cried, bucking up into it. He loved being fingered -- he had, so many times, glazed over at the sight of Eames’ twiddling his chip, wondering what those fingers would feel like inside him. Heaven, it turned out. It felt like heaven. He slid it in and crooked it just so and Arthur reared back onto Eames’ finger wantonly, mewling like a desperate animal in heat._ _

__“Fucking hell, Arthur,” Eames said, then another finger was probing him and holding him open as Eames worked the tip of his tongue in alongside them. Arthur humped the bed, precome slicking the sheets under him, and knew he wasn’t going to last long under this assault. Eames licked into him, pumping his fingers in and out, alternating and then in tandem and it was exquisite torture, too much to be borne._ _

__“Nnnngggh oh fuck, Eames - oh fuck, I’m coming,” he panted, and god damn it, but Eames flipped him back on his front and sucked him down to the root, milking Arthur’s cock with his throat in the most brazen display of sexual artistry Arthur had ever experienced._ _

__Eames groaned long and loud, and in the haze of his own orgasm Arthur dimly registered that he must have come as well. He flopped down on the bed beside Arthur, breathing hard. After a long moment, Arthur felt a hand on his thigh and turned his head to look at Eames._ _

__“Did you like that sushi place?” Eames slanted a sideways smile at him, fucked out and sweaty and beautiful._ _

__“You mean, did I like being manipulated into agreeing to let you blow hot air up my ass?” Arthur arched an eyebrow at him, then grinned. “Yeah, I did. I loved it.”_ _

__“I loved it, too,” Eames said as he curled towards Arthur. “It might not be the only thing I love.”_ _

__Arthur couldn’t look at him. Fucking Eames. What the fuck. He hid his smile in the pillow and tried to think of a response. None was forthcoming, so he lifted his head and threw the pillow in Eames face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, dickhead.”_ _


End file.
